We wish to express our love and appreciation to Sim Hillard McCord, Madelyn Woodward McCord, William Farris Brooks, and Sybil Knight Brooks—they who gave us life.

Genesis 1:1-2 – In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

Genesis 1:26 – And God said let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fishes of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We wish to thank Deborah Howard of The Editorial Department, a private company that offers editing services for writers, who helped us very early in the writing of The Annunaki Enigma: Creation. She gave us excellent instruction and much needed support. And to David King, also of The Editorial Department, we appreciate the words of support you gave. They came at a time when we were about to pitch our manuscript in the trash bin. Thanks to Mr. Philip R. Moran, an editor in Augusta, Georgia, who came into our effort prior to our seeking publication to edit our work. Thankfully, he gave us much more than we asked.

FORWARD

Zach Donovan and Jean Irwin are about to take a leap into the unknown. Neither knows, for sure, what they are headed into but they are having a difficult time maintaining a peaceful relationship. What secret is gnawing at Jean to the point that she will stand toe to toe and eye to eye with Zach, declaring that she knows as much as he does about the government's history of handling reports of alien beings? What secret does Zach know that has caused him to devote his entire life to protecting? This is a little about the history leading up to our modern day enigma – UFOs and alien abduction. What happens to Zach and Jean as they delve into the reality of it all will either tear them further apart or bring them together.

Sometime in the distant past, no one really knows when for sure, but humans appeared on Earth. Some say we evolved from lower life forms and some say we were created by intelligent beings. Who is right? Maybe it was a little of both. Nevertheless we arrived and the rest is history – ancient and modern. The big question is whether we just happened or we were the results of intelligent beings that had a plan of creation. It has been said that the designs and contents of DNA are so complex that it would be a statistical impossibility for it to have randomly evolved.

Along the way and for some reason the ancient histories of many civilizations tell us of gods who ruled over us. Some speak of specific gods devoted to different functions such as fire, the sun, the moon, procreation, the sea or the earth. Other legends speak of a single deity responsible for all life. Which is it? Could it be that, here again, there was a bit of both? The Bible portrays a single deity with many angels. Could it be that these angels, as seen by the early and primitive peoples of the Earth, were accepted as gods? Were they a part of God's team to create us and this world?

The early writings that have been found refer to God as JHWH. Back then there were no vowels in the name of God. We have come to use the spellings Jehovah and Yahweh in later years, the letters Y and W being added to the alphabet and relatively equivalent to J and V. Could vowels just as well have been placed within JHWH to spell Jhowah? Could the JHWH have been a high tech computer-like spelling for His name?

The Bible also tells of errant angels who departed from their lofty goal and mixed with their creations, having sex and creating havoc in this new world. They have been referred to as the Annunaki and have been a source of much speculation. Their recorded fate was that God "cast them out" of his team.

Another question that has titillated the curiosity of the most learned scholars is where God originated before Earth was created. Where did He live? Was it in another dimension, another world? And who were the "us" stated in Genesis as being the creators of man? What was meant by "in our image"? It seems that, at least according to Genesis, God wasn't alone in causing our creation. Who were the others?

As I grew up in the deep south I was steeped in the traditions of the Bible which I still believe. One day when I had reached the age of seven years I was in an old country store when the morning newspaper caught my eye. Thanks to my mother I had already reached the point in my reading skills where I was a fairly good reader. The front page was one that I'll never forget. It told of the flying disc that had crashed at Roswell, New Mexico and there were references that it might have come from outer space. My mind went immediately to thoughts of God and if this might be Him or His people who had crashed.

Over the years I have continued to feel that, even if this flying disc wasn't God's, it still might be that He came from "out there", the place where we point when we speak of Heaven. Could it be? The following novel is one possible scenario of the way we came to be here on the third planet from the sun.

Chapter One

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. William Congreve…….."The Mourning Bride" (1697), sc. Viii

November, 2012 A.D.Arlington National Cemetery

Zach Donovan drove along the winding asphalt trails of the great necropolis. There was a beauty here that was beyond understanding. How could death bring such majesty to a common piece of ground? He looked up the hill and smiled with new understanding as he saw the small shrine holding the flame. It was not the passing of the soul, but the life that was lived that brought such prestige here. If none of the lives represented by these monuments had ever existed, what a different world this might be.

How often had he visited here, and how many times had he followed these ribbons of asphalt to the same place? Something compelled him to do it as he returned again and again.

Today the late fall winds were brisk and from the northwest. Even though it was warm in his car, outside the wind was blowing, bringing in the cold and preparing the trees for the coming of winter. These large and ancient hardwood trees filled him with awe. During the summer they had shaded the legions of tombstones with their thick green canopy.

It was now late in the month, the air was clean, and the multi-colored leaves were shedding freely from the foliage above. He parked the car in his usual place and got out, pulling up the collar of his coat against the biting cold of the wind. He made his way down the path, through the graves, to the familiar spot that drew him there. It was the final place of rest for the person who had made him the man he was. It was the man he loved and the man who had raised him. The one person he admired more than anyone else on earth laid beneath this soil – his grandfather. Bill Donovan's burial at Arlington National Cemetery had been based on the uniqueness of his national service, not to any act of heroism or military involvement as it was for many of the others buried here.

Zach gazed down at the headstone. It had been seven years since his death but whenever he came to this place he always felt as if his grandfather was there listening to him. It was a place of communion which in reality could not be.

As he thought he reached through his coat and under his shirt to retrieve a small medallion which he held in his right hand. His grandfather had been right. If he could only speak to him to tell him that his prediction would come true. All of his work would congeal and become reality, probably by Christmas.

Zach took one last look at the grave, pulled his coat back together and walked back up the hill to his car. He got in and headed back toward the U.S. Naval Observatory, where he had been working since his assignment to Aquarius.

A man of average height, about five foot eight, his light blue eyes contrasted with his black hair that showed a bit of gray peppering, a result of his forty seven years. His olive complexion added to his handsome features which were marred a bit by a slight droop of his right eyelid under a visible scar in his right eyebrow; an injury from a childhood accident.

As he drove over the Potomac on Memorial Bridge and then on past the Lincoln Memorial, he noticed the sky had begun to gray. The cold northwest winds made him think of snow. The colors of autumn were fading and winter would soon make its inevitable return.

***

Doug Bradley stood behind his office desk at the Observatory shuffling through the stack of papers before him. Small beads of perspiration clung to the top of his balding scalp. Doug, in his early sixties was a close friend of Zach's father before he died and had worked with the Aquarius group for many years. He was an uncle figure to Zach.

"I should have come in during the weekend. I'll never get this cleared out by tonight." He frowned and looked across the room at his secretary.

"Alice, has Zach gotten back?"

Alice, gray-haired and also in her sixties, pressed the intercom, but there was no answer.

"He must still be over at Arlington," she said. "Frankly, I think he needs to spend more time with the living and I'm sure Bill Donovan would tell him the same thing if he were alive. He'd tell him without hesitation."

"Now, Alice, don't be hard on Zach. He seems to have his grandfather on his mind right now," Doug chastised.

"I know. He seems to be a permanent fixture around here most of the time," she agreed. "But when he decides to go out, where does he go? The graveyard." She scowled and shook her head.

"There may be no hope for that man," Doug conceded as he looked back at the top of his desk and grimaced. "For sure there's no help for me if I keep staring at this stack of papers. I think I'll head for the dining room. Is the food any good today?"

"If you can enjoy hash and cut corn. When have you ever seen anything good come out of that place?"

"Alice," Doug chuckled, "you're trouble. Look, if Zach returns anytime soon, tell him where I went. I should be back in thirty minutes or so."

"Okay," she said. "By the way, there's a pesky journalist from the Post trying to get in to see Hank. He wants you to handle it for him. It's just an interview."

Doug glanced at his watch as he rubbed his other hand over his scalp.

"Okay, I'll do it when I get back from lunch. Why not? I'll never get to the bottom of that stack anytime soon."

"Want me to get Zach to do it?" she asked.

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. He's further behind with his work than I am and there's no hope of his catching up. I'll be back as soon as I finish eating."

Doug headed down the main corridor toward the elevators. His mind was on the work he had left behind and his eyes were on the journal he brought with him.

"Please hold the door!"

It was a woman shouting from the hall behind him. He turned as he entered the empty elevator. He could see her, an attractive woman, waving to him.

He smiled and nodded to her as he held onto the door, but as she rushed into the elevator his eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. She was the woman from Boston. There was no question in his mind. He'd never forget her, or the single most embarrassing event of his life.

BostonFive Months Earlier

The Leake Anthropological Seminar in Boston was in June. Doug and his wife, Maureen, had arrived late the previous evening and they woke early the next morning.

"Honey, I think I'll run down and get some real coffee before my meeting starts. You know how I hate this coffee they have in the room. Want a cup?"

"Sounds good to me," she answered from the bathroom. "I'm about to get into the shower. Don't forget my creamer."

"Get coffee, creamer and sweetener for you and coffee and sweetener for me. That shouldn't be too hard to remember. I'll be right back."

He picked up the room key and put it in his pocket as he left the room. When he returned he was juggling two cups of steaming coffee, two sweet rolls and a newspaper under one of his arms.

"Hmm, hope Maureen is out of the shower," he thought, "I'm going to need help opening the door."

He noticed a housekeeping cart outside the door, and saw the maid coming out of the room. He looked again at his full hands and raised his eyebrow; it was a good thing that the maid was just leaving. "Hold on," he called. "My key is in my pocket and my hands are full."

She smiled and held the door for him to enter, closing it after he was in the room.

The TV was playing but it was not on the early morning news channel where he had left it but he heard the shower still going in the bathroom. After he placed the coffee and sweet rolls on the table, he sat back in one of the easy chairs to read the paper. As he read, he heard the sound of the shower being turned off and Maureen clearing her throat and coughing. There was something different about that cough.

"She doesn't sound like herself. I wonder if she's all right," he mumbled and got up from his chair, putting his newspaper on the table and walking over to the bathroom door.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asked as he opened the door.

He had barely finished his question when he realized that standing before him was a surprised, beautiful and very naked woman, but not Maureen. The woman, without hesitation, drew back and leveled a blow on his head with her curling iron.

Doug let out a yelp, staggered backwards, confused and holding his scalp with both hands. Feeling his hands slip against his skin, he held them out to see that they were covered with blood. He felt more as the warm ooze began to trickle from the injury to his scalp.

"Oh, my God," he said, looking through the blood dripping from his eyelashes. He opened his eyes wide trying to see and to comprehend what was happening.

"You're not Maureen." He tried his best to calm the woman. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry, I….,"

"Get out now!" She screamed. She held a towel half draped around her, glaring at him, with her right hand poised above her head still clutching the curling iron.

"Please let me…" He stopped in mid-sentence when it began to appear that she was on the verge of delivering another blow to his already injured scalp. He backed away fast and turned to open the door. He saw the number 304 on the exterior wall as the door opened.

"Uh-oh," he muttered, his voice strained by his confusion. He ducked his head quickly as a glass soap dish whizzed by his head, shattering as it struck the wall just behind him.

People began to open their doors and come out to see what all the commotion was about. He was standing with his arms still in a protective mode, his fresh white shirt stained with blood, which was now streaming from his head. Much to his dismay, he saw Maureen watching him from room 306 with a look of horror on her face.

***

It had been a comedy of errors for Doug last spring in Boston, and he never thought he would have to face her again. Now he would, and he would have to make the best of it. He turned to give it a try as he pushed the button to start the elevator.

"I don't guess you remember me," he predicted erroneously.

He watched as she studied his face; he could almost see the memories returning to her.

"Oh yes, Mr. Bradley," she said with a sympathetic smile on her face. "How could I ever forget you? I hope you aren't still upset with me."

"No, no, you had every right; I was intruding on you. And anyway, it took only three stitches. See my scar." He pointed to it as he rubbed an indentation in his scalp. "I do ask that you keep your right hand below your waistline during the time we're in these close quarters," he joked. "And I feel some security in here since I don't see anything that could be used as a missile."

He laughed, but he didn't feel it was very convincing.

"Where are you headed?" he asked clearing his throat as the elevator started up.

"Third floor, thank you," she replied, a smile still on her face from his weak attempt at comedy.

"Are you visiting D.C.?" he asked, turning back to face her.

"I work here now. The Post hired me about three months ago, right after the Leake seminar, and made me their new science editor. I came here today trying to get an interview for an article that I plan to write."

Doug was remembering his conversation with Alice only moments earlier when his thought was interrupted by the elevator stopping between floors and heading down.

"Uh-oh," he said, taking an unsuccessful poke at the control panel, "the elevator is acting up again. Someone below must have interrupted us."

The elevator dropped to ground level and as the doors opened Doug saw Zach.

"It was you that pulled us all the way down here."

"Us?" Zach repeated.

Doug saw a gleam come into his eyes as they settled on the beauty behind him.

"Ohh," Zach spoke in almost a whisper as he took in her beauty. He seemed to be speechless.

"Zach, this is, uh?" He stumbled on his words in his embarrassment.

"Doug, I'd be ashamed. You mean you've been riding alone in the elevator with this beautiful lady and you didn't even know that her name was Jean Irwin."

Doug smiled when he saw the press badge beneath her left lapel, and her face also seemed to reflect puzzlement until she too remembered her badge.

The doors closed behind them, and they began to move upward until the elevator stopped again somewhere just below the third floor.

"There it goes again," Doug said. "Ms. Irwin, it looks as if you are being welcomed to the Observatory by our faulty elevator system. I really wish they would get these fixed. This part of the building is almost new and we can't even keep the elevators running."

He turned to see why Zach had become quiet and saw that he was quite busy sizing up their visitor. It was obvious that, for the moment, he wasn't interested in her mind. Instead, he seemed more focused on her curvaceous figure, her long auburn hair, and her beautiful green eyes. It was the first time in years that Doug had seen him take such notice of a woman, especially one this much younger than he. She didn't look a day over thirty-five, maybe even a little younger. He would have to agree with his unattached friend that she was beautiful and his taste was excellent. Probably too soon, the ability to talk returned to Zach, but never had Doug heard the Zach who was now speaking.

"Don't worry about the elevator, Ms. Irwin," he informed her. "Our team will have it working shortly. By the way, what kind of business do you have here at the Observatory? We don't get too many like you around here."

Doug could see her eyes narrow a bit as she studied Zach's eagerness. His actions were a bit out of character for a man who was usually quiet around women unfamiliar to him.

"I'm hoping to get an interview today," she answered in a somewhat subdued fashion. "Actually several interviews, but I especially want to see Doctor Hank McConnell. I understand he's the local expert in the study of extraterrestrials."

Doug was punching at the elevator control panel and Zach was still surveying her beauty, but both men looked up at her at the same time when she said the word extraterrestrials.

"Why ETs?" Zach asked.

"There is an increasing interest in them recently," she replied. "And anyway it's my business to report science that people hunger for and that sells papers. I do have to admit that, for some reason, the subject fascinates me. I read anything I can find about them."

"Ms. Irwin is the new science editor at the Post," Doug explained. "She's also the lady whose room I accidentally entered last spring in Boston. Ms. Irwin, this is Dr. Zach Donovan."

"No, really?" Zach questioned. He shook his head and let out a laugh. "You mean this is the one that nailed you at the Leake meeting?"

"Don't hold back with your feelings, Zach. I feel uncomfortable when you do that," Doug pleaded, a sheepish grin coming to his face.

Zach, ignoring his close friend, reached out and took Jean's hand. He shook it and held on as long as she would allow. Doug could see a smile on his face that reached from one side to the other. Was this the same Zach he had known since his childhood?

"From what Doug and Maureen tell me, Ms. Irwin, you can throw quite a punch." He beamed as he spoke.

She raised an eyebrow and turned to Doug. "I take it you two work together," she said.

Doug was opening his mouth to respond, but Zach interrupted him again.

"Yes, we do," he said. "We've been working together for years. Doug and I are close enough that he tells me everything he hears and even what he sees."

It was obvious to Doug that Zach was getting out of control.

"Everything?" she asked, arching her eyebrow for a second time.

"Everything," he answered.

Doug was impressed with his aggressiveness. It had been many a year since Zach had taken such an interest in a woman, but he wondered if he wasn't carrying this a bit too far, too fast. His anxiety level rose when he noticed Jean's jaw tighten. She was about to speak when the elevator started. It rose two feet and the door opened.

"Hey, have you guys been on vacation?"

Doug looked up. Standing in front of the door and asking the questions was Hank McConnell.

"I heard the emergency bell," he said.

"We were in good shape," Zach explained with a look of pride adorning his face. "Look what was stranded with us." He pointed to Jean as she emerged through the elevator door.

The harsh stare on Hank's face changed to a look of appreciation.

"Hank, Ms. Irwin is Doug's friend. He met her last spring in Boston. He said she was a real knockout."

There he goes again, Doug thought. It sounded to Doug as if he was about to go overboard again and at his expense.

"He knows her real well," Zach continued.

Doug's prayers were answered when he saw Jean look hard at Zach, who took the hint and changed his direction.

"Uhh, Jean is the new science editor at the Post," Zach said as he noticed her expression. "She's here doing research on, of all things, extraterrestrial biological entities, you know, EBEs."

"Interesting," Hank remarked.

"Jean, this is Doctor Hank McConnell, our section chief," Zach added.

Hank, a somewhat short stocky man with a short haircut, extended his hand to her.

Doug watched her reaction with interest as she turned, shook his hand and turned back to Zach. He could almost read her mind when Hank's name sunk in. Her eyes began to sparkle as she began to recall Boston. This was the man who gave the lecture. He was the one she was here to see.

He saw the chief match her smile, but before she could get anything out of her mouth, he barked out to Doug. "You guys get your lunch and meet me back in my office."

Without taking a breath, he made an about face, opened a nearby door and headed down the stairwell.

"I can't get him to use the elevator. He thinks it's too slow," Doug noted and chuckled.

"Oh, I can't believe I let him run off like that," she said, stomping her foot on the floor. "I wanted to talk to him."

"We gave you the chance," Zach joked. "You have to be fast to keep up with Hank. He doesn't stay in one place too long. Why don't you hang around with us? Maybe we can get you in to see him."

"Good idea," she said with a smile. "Maybe I'll just slip into the meeting with you. I'll be sure to see him that way."

"No, I don't think so," Doug advised.

"I'll tell you what," Zach suggested, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you have lunch with us? Maybe we can finagle a way to get you in to see him."

She thought a second before answering. "I am hungry and that was my next stop before trying to see him." She hesitated at first, but then shrugged her shoulder. "Sure, why not? I think I'll take you up on that offer."

Doug wasn't as pleased as Zach seemed to be. He was still bothered about what she might say, but so far she hadn't referred to Boston at all other than with his own prompting. Only Zach had, which he had expected. It wasn't that he was afraid of the mention of it. It was just an embarrassing episode in his life that he had rather forget.

***

After the three had passed through the buffet line and found a table, the conversation was pleasant and Doug was seeing a side of Zach that he hadn't seen in many years. He was actually communicating with a woman and enjoying himself. Well, at least for a while he did.

"I spent four years in Durham, North Carolina after I received my master's degree in journalism at Chapel Hill," she said. "It's a great city, clean, progressive and growing, but the D.C. area is beautiful with its monuments, parks and memorials. I've never seen such magnificent museums and archives. It's a researcher's paradise. When I need background material for my articles, it's easy to find. If I can't find it online, there are reams of data throughout the city."

Zach had been listening to her every word and, by now, Doug could see that he was becoming quite impressed.

"So," Zach asked. "What's a woman like you doing as science editor at the Post, anyway?" With that asked he pushed a spoon full of creamed corn into his mouth and waited for an answer.

With Doug's eyes opened as wide as he could possibly open them, a combination of a smile and a look of disbelief came to his face. What is he thinking? He looked first at Zach and then glanced at Jean, who was glaring at his younger associate.

"I beg your pardon," she barked. "What's being a woman got to do with it?"

Zach looked up. A grain of corn was still clinging to his lower lip and his mouth was hanging half open. "Wait," he said, his brow furrowed. "I didn't mean anything by that. I'm just accustomed to thinking of guys in that position."

"Well, if you come to visit us at the Post, Mister Donovan, you'll find a woman in that position."

"It's Doctor Donovan, but you can call me Zach," he said and let out a nervous laugh. His attempt to defuse the situation failed miserably, leaving him helpless and uncomfortable as he glanced at Doug then back at her.

He narrowed his eyes, nodded twice and tapped his spoon against the table as he began a second attempt to turn the situation around. "I need to get back to the point where we both got off the elevator, and start all over again."

"I doubt if that's where it all began, Doctor. I believe you would have to travel many years back in time to find it." Her stare remained fixed on him.

Doug decided to just sit back in his chair and take in the masterful techniques of his learned associate, one Doctor Zach Donovan, on how to handle a woman. This should be good, he thought. Zach seemed to be talented in this field, probably from his many days of practice.

Zach shook his head and tried one more time. "Now look, you just settle down; relax and I'll be more careful in the way I word things from now on. You know, I think you took my words the wrong way. I didn't mean that the way you understood it. What about this? I'll try to work out a way to get you in to see Hank. Okay? Will that make you happy?"

Doug gulped.

"I'll tell you what, Doctor Donovan," she instructed, pressing her finger against his chest. "YOU relax, and YOU sit back down, and I'LL handle my own needs and responsibilities. Will that make YOU happy, DOCTOR?"

"Now, Jean, I mean Ms. Irwin, don't go off half-cocked. You're making entirely too much out of what I said."

"You may not have noticed," she advised, "but I am quite capable of meeting with Doctor McConnell without your special help. Please excuse me."

Doug restrained himself as he watched Jean leave the cafeteria with quite a zip in her step.

"Hey, Zach, those were some great lines. I must be getting old, but I would have never been so clever as to have thought of all that. The way you handled it, what can I say, except, well, it was magnificent – even masterful."

Zach was still standing by his chair staring at an empty doorway when Doug's words finally registered in his mind. He looked back at him and shook his head.

"Talk about a hair trigger, she sure has one. Wow, women are acting strange lately."

"God, Zach, it sure doesn't take a genius to see why you're still a bachelor."

"What do you mean?" Zach asked with a confused look on his face. "I was just trying to help her. Do you think I hurt her feelings?"

Doug rolled his eyes as he saw him look back toward the door.

"Yeah, I think I did," he concluded.

Doug nodded. "I would say you did but that's over now and we need to get on up to Hank's office. I hope he's not wound up tight today. You've provided enough excitement in my life for one day."

***

Zach tensed a bit as he entered the office with Doug close behind. He could see that Hank was in his usual state of hyperactivity, pacing the floor of his office as he waited for their appearance.

"Have a seat, men. By the way, what did you do with that woman, what's her name? …Irwin? She's the best-looking thing I've seen around here in years."

"She had to leave, Chief," Zach explained. "She had some business to attend to or something. I—I don't know, I think maybe she had some interviews lined up."

Zach saw Doug's effort at trying to suppress a smile, without success.

"Zach entertained her at lunch," Doug sputtered.

Hank was fingering a paper on his desk. He cut his eyes at both of them but then went on to the business at hand.

"Fellows, we haven't had much to investigate in the past year. I don't know why. It could be connected to what I brought you here to talk about."

Zach looked toward Doug and back to Hank.

"What's going on, Hank?" He asked.

"I was just in touch with MJ-1 earlier today and he tells me that the Jhowah group feels, as we were expecting, that it's about time to begin to get things out in the open."

"What all do they plan to reveal?" Zach asked.

"Zach," Hank responded, "they want to make a complete revelation of everything from the origins of their group to considerations of our future, and they even want to consider their explorations and scientific endeavors in other locations. They feel our historical experiences could help them in deciding how to go about future projects."

"That's exciting," Zach said. "I wonder what this will do to society in general. Back in the Sixties they predicted a breakdown of many segments of our world cultures and religious organizations."

"This will change the world we live in," Hank agreed, "but times have changed. Our advanced technology and all of the Star Trek and Star Wars TV and movies have pretty much desensitized us. The Brookings people feel differently about world reaction now."

"Well," Doug said, "one of the predictions was the 23rd of December of this year. I've been wondering if that might be the day."

"You got it," Hank said. "The Mayans were right. That's the day Jhowah chose, and it's also the day that your grandfather had told us it would happen."

"That's getting close," Zach noted. "You said Jhowah chose the date?"

"Yes," Hank answered, "but we have to start a lot earlier than the twenty-third to do what we have to do to prepare for their arrival."

Hank studied Zach's face.

"Zach," he said. "When you started with us a few years ago I never put you through the usual training program because, well, you had been a part of Aquarius since before you were born, and you were living with the most knowledgeable teacher of all. I just took your grandfather, Bill, aside and told him it was his job to fill you in on everything and a couple of days later, when I saw you present at a meeting, I could tell that your general disposition was changed. You were so different from your norm in such a way that I knew only the knowledge of Jhowah could have changed it."

"Bill and I spent those two days and nights in concentrated study," Zach explained, "but he saved the big story until shortly before his death. It was quite a bit to swallow all in one gulp, so Pop fed it to me a little at a time. You're right. It changed my outlook on everything that I had ever learned."

"Bill was with the group from its inception at Roswell when the orders came down to form it. He could have answered your questions better than anyone else. How many contacts have you had with them?" Hank asked.

"Only the time we handled the problem in that lake in Georgia. The other occasions resulted from accidents that left the occupants dead or they had been taken away before I arrived."

"I see," Hank said. "Things will change. You'll see a lot more of them and they will be quite alive. We've got orders to move along and make things ready by the 23rd. The Jhowah group feels that there could not be a better time. The world political situation is perfect for disclosure. The MJ-12 group wants representatives from all nations. There's no question that all of the World Federation members will have representatives there. Many of the third world countries may not take an active part."

"What location is to be used?" Doug asked.

Hank smiled and nodded his head. "Bill was right again, it will be in the Bahamas. North Bimini is the specific site chosen. Bill knew his stuff."

"He talked with Jhowah," Zach added thoughtfully.

"What are our orders?" Doug asked. "Who does what, when and where?"

"We're sending a team down next week to secure the island," Hank explained. "We'll have control until they arrive and until further plans are made."

He continued. "Doug, that's where you come in, I want you to go in with the advance party and take charge of all the diplomatic formalities, set up press coverage and VIP billeting. Zach, you get in there a couple of days before arrival day and help Doug with the billeting and anything else that remains to be completed. I'm sure he'll have plenty for you to do by then."

Zach nodded. He was pleased with the choice of Bimini. It had leaked to him the day before. Bill had said many times that without question that was going to be the location. He had said it was an ancient center of civilization.

"Hank," Doug questioned, "I suspect the press coverage will be overwhelming, and it looks as if I'm going to have my hands full with all the billeting. If it's okay with Zach, could he leave at the same time I do and help with the diplomatic end or whatever needs to be done?"

"I see no problem with that, in reality there might not be as large a group as we would expect, but remember," reminded Hank, "even though they'll be there earlier, the press representatives won't have an inkling about the scope of their coverage until the evening of the twenty-third of December. They will be told that they are to cover an event of extreme importance and that's all. Their governments will know and urge their compliance."

"I'll be there whenever you need me, Doug," Zach assured him.

"Gentlemen," Hank said running his cupped hand over his neatly trimmed GI haircut, "this is the pinnacle of our work at Aquarius, and may I impress upon you that this will be a historic event, a world historic event. Let's do it right. That's all I have to say unless either of you have questions."

"I don't," Doug added, "but Maureen wanted me to remind you two about the little get-together at our place tomorrow evening about eight."

"I'm looking forward to it," Zach said.

"Sure you are, Zach," Doug added. "That's why you'll be late as usual."

Zach turned to see a smiling Doug wink at Hank.

Chapter Two

"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." ……..Henry David Thoreau Walden (1854), Conclusion

It was obvious as Jean approached the Bradley's front door that someone had been busy working outside. She gave a determined punch at the doorbell and then looked at her watch which showed seven forty-five. It was already getting dark but, even with the poor illumination from the street lights, she could see how well the yard had been manicured. No leaves, even in the final days of November.

"Well, Jean, you were able to come after all. I'm glad." It was Maureen who opened the door. "And you look beautiful. I'm happy that you were able to get here early. Come on in. Doug just got out of the tub, so he should be getting in here in another five or ten minutes."

"Your yard is beautiful, Maureen. It looks perfect. I suppose you and Doug spent all day working outside," she said as she handed off her coat to her hostess.

"Not me," Maureen replied. "It was Doug. He's been at it since early this morning. I told him it would be night when everyone arrived and no one would notice, but that didn't stop him. Nothing stops him when he gets into that compulsive mood of his."

"Did you ever tell him about our meeting?" Jean asked through a broad smile.

"No, I didn't want to spoil anything we've planned. He doesn't know you'll be here." Maureen winked at her as she shut the door against the cold November wind and hung her coat in the hall closet.

"Maureen, I hate to pull this prank on him," Jean complained, frowning. "He seems as if he's such an easy-going person, and he took it really seriously last June in Boston. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Are you kidding? Jean, I wouldn't miss this for the world. Doug needs a little excitement."

"What were you doing over there?" Maureen asked. "I thought you were a big-time editor now."

"An editor, yes," she agreed, "but as science editor I still have to toil to earn my pay. Anyway, yesterday I attended a news briefing there and was trying to get an interview with Doctor McConnell when I accidentally bumped into Doug and one of his buddies on the elevator. I imagine he'll tell you the rest, if he hasn't already."

Maureen looked pensive as she shook her head. "No, he hasn't said a thing about it," she said, "but he really hasn't had a chance. I was asleep when he came in last night, and he was already working outside when I woke up this morning. That's okay," she continued with a cheerful voice. "This is just what we need to get things back on an even keel. When it's all over he'll be laughing with us. He loves a good joke."

Jean saw a mischievous smile on Maureen's face.

"By the way," she added, "you'll get your chance to talk to Hank. He'll be here tonight. He usually feels free to talk when he's under the influence of wine. That will be a good time for you to do some of your research."

When Maureen left the room, Jean took a seat with her back to the entry. She waited only a couple of minutes until she heard the sound of someone entering from behind. She got up and turned slowly.

"Hello, I'm Dou….," His voice trailed off as he saw her face. Jean could see confusion in his eyes that was soon replaced by a look and smile of familiarity and then of wonderment.

"Ms. Irwin, you didn't tell me. I didn't know you were going to be here tonight," he said as he reached out to shake her hand.

"Hi, Doug, I guess we don't really need an introduction, do we?" Her voice was sensuous and seductive. She was not the same woman who was at the Observatory yesterday. She held a soft glowing smile on her face that brought out her natural beauty and added an element of realness in her tone.

"My, you look good tonight," she continued. "I thought we could begin again where we left off in Boston. We didn't really get a chance to be alone yesterday at the Observatory."

She finally reached out and firmly took his hand, which had been hanging out in mid air since his initial gesture. He hesitated at first, even pulling away a bit, but she held on until he ceased his efforts.

"You took me by surprise," she said. "You know, that morning in my hotel room in Boston when you came to visit me?"

By now Doug looked like he was tied in knots and speechless.

"I know I should have been more considerate," she continued. "You just wanted company and I could have solved your problem." She watched as he tried to speak. He frowned and tried to back away. The words still wouldn't come out. She could feel his palms getting sweaty as she hung on with a steady grip.

"But listen," he finally got out. "Stop, I didn't mean anything like that. I thought it was our room and that you were my wife until I opened the door." He blushed even more as he remembered opening the door and seeing her standing there naked.

"Your wife, our room, oh yes, Doug. What an exciting thought, but I didn't mind your being there. Just call and let me know next time."

"No, you have me all wrong," Doug pleaded.

"Is your wife going to be gone long?" she asked looking back at the door that Maureen had used to make her exit. "I don't want her to catch us like this."

"Uh, she uh, oh hell, what are you trying to do to me?"

"How dare you to try to seduce my husband again!" The scream came from Maureen as she burst through the door, arms raised high and a hand squeezed into an awkward fist.

Doug sighed when he heard his wife's voice. His hand was still in Jean's firm grip.

"N-no, she wasn't trying anything like that," he stammered.

Maureen looked into his eyes and dropped her gaze down to his hand and then back at him. She frowned.

Jean continued to hold a grip on his hand despite his tugging, which was increasing and becoming more and more obvious. She knew she couldn't hold on much longer and she was reaching a point where she could no longer suppress her smile. It was over.

"No more, Maureen. He's had enough. I know I have." She released her grip and broke into a laugh.

As Jean turned loose her pent-up laughter, she looked at Maureen who was almost seizuring. They were both laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces, but Maureen took time out enough to plant an affectionate kiss on the cheek of her faithful husband. "Gotcha," she sputtered.

"Damn! I mean excuse me," Doug said with a bit of relief in his strained voice. "You two are about to cause me to lose the last two hairs I have on the top of my shiny head. What the hell is going on? How in the world have you gotten together and pulled such a stunt? I didn't know you knew each other, at least other than your uncomfortable introduction during our episode in Boston."

"You just looked so pitiful that I couldn't go on," Jean said as she stifled spasms of laughter.

Doug smiled. He had been had, but he was always a good sport. "Jean, I'll get you back," he threatened but with considerable respect for her ability to carry out such a scheme.

"Maureen and I met at the spa," she explained. "Don't you remember her joining recently, say about a month ago?"

"It was a delightful coincidence," Maureen added. "We laughed so the first day when we reminisced about Boston that we decided to get all we could out of it. We've spent the last two weeks setting it up."

Doug's eyes widened as he turned to Jean. "You mean you knew all about this yesterday and you still pulled such a mean trick on me?"

"Why do you think I planned this party?" Maureen asked him. "It's you who usually makes all the plans."

Jean was amazed at his understanding and humorous attitude. His smile grew as he queried the twosome. Maureen began laughing all over again and appeared to be about to say something when the doorbell interrupted her.

"I'll get it," she said wiping her cheeks to be sure her face was dry. "Doug's in no condition to greet guests. He's being seduced." Having said that she broke out into another fit of laughter and headed for the front door.

Jean was smiling and Doug was still shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Doug. I hope we didn't upset you too much," she said.

He smirked. "Hey, what the hell…? I've reached that stage in life when a seduction becomes a point of honor by just happening; even if it's faked," he added. "Besides, Maureen gets a lot of enjoyment out of doing something such as this. I would feel as if I was depriving her of too much fun if I didn't let her get by with it."

"You're a good husband, Doug. I know some men who would still be sulking in their embarrassment."

"No, Jean, if it makes Maureen happy then I'm happy. We have a pretty good marriage if I do say so myself. These things strengthen it. I realize that she wouldn't try as hard as she does and enjoy it as much as she does if she didn't love me."

"Speaking of trying hard," she added, "I hate that things became unpleasant at lunch yesterday. Doctor Donovan's words just hit me the wrong way. I'm sorry I made such a scene."

"Don't apologize, Jean," he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I don't blame you for getting upset. I can't respond for Zach but knowing him the way I do and for as long as I have known him, I can assure you there was no intentional effort to offend you. Maybe he's been a bachelor too long. He does have a bit of a problem expressing himself at times, but it's just not in him to do something like that, at least not deliberately. I suspect he may have been trying at the time to impress you."

Strange way of doing it, she thought to herself and she was about to say so when Maureen broke in to introduce her to the arriving guests, Jeb and Marcie Martin.

"Science editor for the Post, that sounds really interesting. It must be a fascinating job," Jeb noted. "You should fit in well with this crowd."

Jean accepted a glass of white wine from Doug, who smiled and nodded as she took a sip, gave an approving facial gesture and turned back to Jeb and Marcie.

"And what kind of work are you in, Jeb?" she asked.

"Pressure tanks," he answered. "It's the kind that you have under your Bar-B-Q grill at home, and some other types."

"Pressure tanks?" she repeated as she thought, how did you two get together with a group such as this? “Do anthropologists mix with pressure tanks?" she queried.

"I grew up with one of the guys in the group," he explained as he gave an understanding laugh. "Zach Donovan, he's a life-long friend of mine. He works with Hank and Doug. Marcie and I have gotten to know the rest of the group over the past few years, so they usually invite us to their social events." Jeb stopped to take a sip from the beer he was holding and continued. "Have you met Zach yet?"

She knew that question was coming, and now she also knew Zach and Jeb were best of friends. "Yes, I, I met him yesterday." She could feel the need for more tact and diplomacy than she had brought to the party.

"You did? He's a fine person, Jean. He's like a brother to me."

"I'm sure he's nice," she said. Her response seemed cynical, and she was glad it went unnoticed by Jeb. He seemed more concerned about making her feel comfortable.

"He'll be here tonight," Marcie told her. "I hope you get to know him better. He'll probably be late, you know. He seems to be late most of the time. I haven't figured out whether he wants to make a grand entrance or just has a bad habit of being late. I really think it's the latter."

Jean smiled and reflected on the conversation. She hadn't really thought about Zach coming to the party. She should have. She knew he and Doug worked together. If she had known for sure, she would have found something else to do.

"I think you two would get along fine," Jeb said.

At this point Jean was thankful to hear the sound of the door chimes. She turned to see Hank coming through the door. Eager to meet and talk with him, she excused herself from Jeb and Marcie and made her way to the door for the formal introductions. When they were over she lingered near Hank.

"Doctor McConnell," she addressed him, "I heard you speak in Boston last spring. You gave a good lecture. I was impressed with the information you presented."

"Let me be Hank," he said in his usual gruff and straight forward manner. "You're the young lady who was stuck with Zach and Doug on the elevator yesterday, right?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Which lecture? Do you mean the one on the probability of life in other star systems? That usually titillates the crowds. Especially, since it is coming from an anthropologist."

"Yes," she responded, "that's the one. It was filled with facts and details that made me feel good about my own opinions of ETs. I especially liked the evaluation you made of the Drake Formula. It doesn't prove any specifics but it does lend credibility to the concept of ETs. I've made reference to this formula several times to support my own position that there is life out there."

"Well," Hank seemed to fumble with his words, "we can't prove anything until we either get out there and find other life or some of them come here. By the way, you should talk with Zach about the Drake Formula. That's a favorite subject of his. He even met Drake once."

"I'll be sure to do that," she agreed. When hell freezes over, she thought.

"I'd appreciate one favor, if you don't mind me being so bold as to ask," she said. "I would like it if you could help me to see that old refractory telescope at the Observatory. When I was there yesterday I heard someone mention it. Do you think there is any way I could get to see it?"

"No problem, I'll see what I can do to work it out for you. By the way, why were you walking the halls of the Observatory yesterday?"

"I was looking for some material," she explained, "that I need for an upcoming article in the Post on the possibilities that ETs have already visited us here on earth."

"Whatever gave you the idea that there was someone in the building who had information on ETs on earth?" He asked.

Jean was puzzled and she answered him as such. "Well, for one thing there was your lecture in Boston, and then there was your press conference in the main auditorium yesterday on the latest close encounters."

"Alleged close encounters," he reminded her. "Yes, I remember the CE-1 press release yesterday. We have those reports every couple of months. It appeases the UFO buffs. If we don't do something, they'll pester us to death and accuse us of all kind of conspiracies."

"Well," she said, "someone did say you were a good source. Were they right?"

The look on Hank's face bothered her. He wasn't just upset; he looked angry.

"May I ask who?" Hank said with a tense expression.

"No," she answered. "You know how it is with journalists. We can't divulge our sources. If we do, then soon there would be no sources."

The doorbell chimed again just as she finished, and she could feel the tension crack as Hank released his eyes from his fixation on her and turn to open the door. She decided she had rather face the bear named Hank than to see what she was seeing coming through the door.

Standing in the door, and looking straight past Hank and the others and right into her eyes was Zach Donovan. Neither of them moved for a moment, and then Jean smiled.

Zach nodded and walked inside without a smile, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Zach, you're late again," Hank reminded him, "but glad you made it," he said. "By the way, I have a special assignment for you."

"What's that," he asked, a bit puzzled.

"I want you to take Jean down to the Observatory and show her the old refractory telescope. You'd better do it in the next couple of days, though. I have some plans to keep you real busy after that."

Jean watched Zach. His mouth opened, but only for a moment. He stole a quick glance at her and then back at Hank. She wasn't sure what to say. This wasn't what she had wanted. He wasn't in her plans, especially after yesterday's episode, but she did want to see the old telescope. She waited to see what would happen.

"Sure, I'll take her tomorrow," he replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd appreciate that, Zach," she said, smiling as she realized what was happening. It might be poetic justice to be in the driver's seat with Zach holding on, even if it was just a trip to the Observatory. He deserved it with the attitude toward women that he was carrying around.

"I'll plan on you picking me up after lunch tomorrow," she advised.

She saw Zach's eyes narrow for a moment as he turned and left the room.

***

Zach came through the kitchen door mumbling and leaving the party in the other room.

"What is the matter with you," Jeb asked. "You look upset."

"Jeb, I'll tell you, this has been one helluva past two days. First, it was something that happened at work yesterday, and now Hank has just set me up to be a babysitter for that feminist reporterette out there."

Zach stopped, a perplexed look on his face. "What are you doing back here by yourself?"

"Oh nothing," Jeb answered. "I was just making myself at home and came back here to get a beer. What are you upset about and why all the anger? I can't believe it. That's one baby I'd enjoy sitting. She's beautiful. Don't tell Marcie, but I'd be happy to take her for you, if I could. I mean, if I were to do something like that."

Jeb reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He popped the lid on it and passed it to Zach. "Here, you need this worse than I do."

Zach snickered, took the beer and watched Jeb get himself one. "Well," he said, "you're welcome to her. She's either one of those radical feminists or she just has a problem with men, probably both. They're all alike. I told her I'd get her an interview with Hank yesterday, but she got all upset with something I said or did, who knows, and really – who cares? At first she acted as though she'd do anything to get an interview, and then she got her nose out of joint when I offered to get it for her."

"Just what did you ask her to do for the privilege of talking with Hank?" Jeb asked with a chuckle.

Zach looked up at the smile still on his friend's face. "Jeb, you won't do. No, it was nothing like that." He shrugged and held his hands out being careful not to spill his beer. "It was just a simple thing that I said; I don't even remember what it was. That's how insignificant it was."

"Zach, are you ever going to be comfortable around women again? I hope you don't let your first marriage destroy your life. Women are neat creatures and so soft and cuddly. Don't you remember?"

"I have no problem being around women. I'm around them all day, and yes, I can well remember how soft and cuddly they are."

"You know what I mean," Jeb explained. "You're not committed to any of those women at work, and you never go any place to be around the opposite sex."

"I'm here," he challenged.

"Would you have come if you had known that Jean would be here?"

"Probably not, Jeb, but she's a special case, a real special hard case," he remarked.

"She's a woman, Zach, an intelligent woman. Marcie and I talked with her. You're avoiding women in all but business circumstances. You have no romance. That's the way it's been with you these last few years. You've left no room for commitment, large or small, since your divorce. You don't even date. That's not the Zach I knew when we were growing up in Alexandria."

A smile came to Zach's face as he remembered those younger days. "We did have some good times back then," he agreed. "Remember that time in high school when we double dated and I had that blonde from Maryland?"

"Maybe you should have married her," Jeb suggested with a chuckle. "She had you awfully upset for a few weeks."

"She sure did, until her NFL-size boyfriend decided to send someone to see what was happening on Friday nights while he was playing football."

"Well, my friend, where will you find your perfect woman?"

"Not me, Jeb. I'm not looking. Work is enough. I don't need anything else complicating my life. Work, by the way, is getting more and more complicated every day."

"Okay you guys, get out here and be sociable," Maureen jokingly ordered as she came through the doorway. "Hank and Doug can't handle all the women out there."

"Tell Hank and Doug to come back here and have a beer with us," Zach offered as he pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter, making a seat out of it. "They're too old to be trying to handle all of you women, anyway."

"Speak for yourself," she said, slapping him on his knee. "They seem to be holding their own. Get off my counter."

Zach grinned and shook his head as he slid off the counter and headed for a chair.

"I'm serious," Maureen urged. "Come on out here with us and be sociable. By the way, what do you think of Jean? Isn't she beautiful?"

Zach noticed Jeb cut his eyes over to him and he also saw Maureen looking at him waiting for an answer.

"As a black widow," he answered and tossed his empty beer can into the trash before walking over to the door and holding it open for Maureen. He bowed and gestured for her to go through.

"I love you just as if you were my own son, Zach Donovan," she said standing with her hands on her hips, "but sometimes I just don't understand you. A beautiful woman like her and all you have to say is something negative. I say you'd better take notice of this one. Don't you agree, Jeb?"

"Sure do," Jeb answered, snickering as he followed her through the door.

Zach spent the remainder of the evening circulating among the guests trying to help Maureen be a good hostess, but he managed to keep his distance from Jean. He did notice that she spent a considerable amount of time talking with Hank before she left. He checked his watch. She was leaving early. Well, that made it easier for him to avoid her and allowed him to spend the last of the evening with his old friend Jeb and his wife, Marcie.

"Zach."

Zach looked up to see Maureen approaching him with a broad smile on her face.

"Zach, Jean had a call on her pager and had to leave, but she said for you to call her about noon tomorrow about the trip to the Observatory. She said to give you this. It's her pager number."

"She's real sure of herself," he muttered as he took the slip of paper and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

"Now, now, Zach. You stop that. She didn't mean anything like that. She even told me that you were going to take her to the Lincoln Memorial after seeing the telescope. I think that's a fine way for the two of you to spend a Sunday afternoon."

Zach, his mouth open, looked over at Jeb, clinched his teeth and shook his head.

Chapter Three

"Night hath a thousand eyes."……………John Lyly, "Maides Metamorphosis"

She should have left the heat on. Her apartment had cooled considerably since she left for the Bradley's house earlier that evening. Actually, it was downright cold.

Jean had left the party and gone by the newsroom in answer to her page. Now she was home at what she thought would be the end of her working day, but the scanner broke the silence as she was removing her coat. She reached over and turned up the volume. "Radar tracking shows it was traveling at a speed exceeding seven thousand two hundred miles an hour when it began to descend. Radar contact was lost west of Richmond one mile south of the town of Georges Tavern, Virginia."

Wow, she thought and headed for her bookshelves where she pulled out her book on scanner frequencies. The frequency belonged to the control tower at Ronald Reagan Airport. After only about five minutes another transmission came across the scanner on a different frequency. It tweaked her curiosity.

"Alpha-Tango-2, this is Alpha-Tango-1. Have you determined a location?"

"Affirmative, Alpha-Tango-1, its last location was approximately one mile southwest of Georges Tavern. The area is near state road 45, also known as Cartersville Road, which travels south out of Georges Tavern. This is the best we can determine at this time. It's a remote area and could be approached from the highway."

"Alpha-Tango-2, this is Alpha-Tango-1. I'll wake up the team and get the mobile lab rolling. You and Alpha-Tango-3 get yourselves and your group over to that site and begin the search and cleanup. I'll be looking in the same general area, and as soon as one of us locates the site we must create a security cover."

"Alpha-Tango-1, we need to enable the encoders."

At that point the voices disappeared and an unintelligible sound was all that came across the frequency. The only thing she could find out about that frequency was that it was assigned to the U.S. Government. What in the world could be traveling over seven thousand miles an hour? Maybe it was the secret Aurora stealth vehicle or maybe it wasn't even from this world.

She wasn't sure what it was or where it came from. There was no clue in the broadcast. She knew one thing: it had crashed. The broadcast did seem to indicate that much before it ended. It was late but this stood a good chance of turning into a big story. Nothing she had ever heard of flew that fast within the atmosphere. She had to get down to Virginia now.

She figured on a two-hour drive to Richmond and another twenty minutes to the crash site near Georges Tavern. It was eleven fifteen according to her watch. Remembering that it was a cold night, she took her coat from the closet and grabbed her road atlas off the table as she rushed out the door.

As she drove south into Virginia, her thoughts kept drifting back to things she had heard at the Bradley's party. She knew she was not supposed to have heard some of the conversation that had entered her ears, and if she handled it right maybe Zach might clear up some of it tomorrow at the Observatory.

The focus of the moment was that aircraft. The speed was phenomenal. She went over and over it in her head as she made her way down the highway. The only craft that could fly at that speed would be in the military research class like the Aurora and it would be using stealth technology. But radar couldn't zero in on a stealth aircraft, especially the newest super-stealth fighters. She had just researched and written about them two weeks earlier. Military research craft wouldn't be flying in these parts. They would be out west in the Area 51 region.

The ride into Virginia was long and lonely, but she finally found state road 6 that led her to Georges Tavern. Her gas tank was now only a little more than a quarter full so she pulled into a gas station to fill up. She glanced at her watch as she was pumping. It was 1:30 A.M.

Leaving the station, she drove west until she found the Cartersville Road or state road 45 where she turned south. That was the last direction she had heard before the scanner encoder was enabled.

Fifteen minutes later she was traveling north again, frustrated by her situation. About two miles south of the village of Georges Tavern she had seen a light glowing in the west, but she couldn't find an access road off the highway in that direction.

She turned on her GPS unit and soon saw there was a road a little farther west of Georges Tavern which wasn't on her map. When she finally located the road, it seemed to be hardly more than a trail, but she felt it should lead her to the glowing light. She bumped along for several hundred yards only to find a barricade with yellow wooden sawhorses and a ROAD CLOSED sign that was propped in front of one of them.

She remembered what she had heard on the scanner. Alpha-Tango-1 had said they needed to create a security cover. She hopped out of her car, dragged one of the barricades aside, drove past it and then stopped, got out and pulled the barricade back again. When she had returned behind the wheel and looked through her windshield, she could see the glow in the distance.

She cautiously drove toward the light, then remembered her headlights and clicked them off. When her eyes adjusted, there was enough reflected light from the moon for her to make her way down the road and there were no vehicles traveling on it. Soon she began to see light through the trees and saw large lamps mounted on tripods and wisps of smoke rising among the trees. By this time she was barely moving. She saw figures and shadows moving through the trees.

Up ahead there was another road block. On the other side of the barricade a large van and seven or eight automobiles were parked along both sides of the road, which no one seemed to be guarding. Looking for a way to get through, she found that she was just able to squeeze between the barricades and proceed. All of the vehicles which she passed had U.S. Government on their rear tags.

Through the woods on her left she observed more movement and small fires near what appeared to be the origin of the largest amount of rising smoke.

Everyone she saw was cloaked in a yellow hooded suit that covered their body. All of them had respirators and visors to protect their lungs and faces. She decided these were either radiation suits or the suits worn by medical personnel when working with infected materials, or maybe a combination of both.

How could she get any closer without being spotted? Her party clothes would stand out like a flashlight in a dark room among all the yellow uniforms.

There were at least fifteen of the workers milling around among the trees, but so far it seemed that no one had noticed her car. She had a clear view down the road and saw that a SUV had just pulled out onto the road. It was moving in her direction. I need to get out of here, she thought.

Just before the SUV reached the position where she had driven off the road, it stopped and one of the personnel inside got out, opened the back of a nearby vehicle and pulled out several objects that appeared to be large black bags. The individual returned to his vehicle, turned it around and headed back up the road.

Body bags? She wondered.

She slipped out of her car and made her way up to the SUV. She opened the latch. It snapped as the rear door came open. She squinted trying to see inside, then crawled into the cargo area. "Well, well, what do we have here?" she whispered to herself with a smile on her face.

There was a stack of yellow suits and two smaller boxes, which she opened. One was filled with visors and the other with respirators. She could also see a box of body bags that had been opened.

A flashing red light ahead of her caught her attention. She ducked low and peeked above the seats. She saw two small security vehicles headed in the same direction in which she planned to go, but then one of them stopped, turned around and headed in her direction.

She had to do something. If they stopped, she would have to be fast to get out of there. She reached back and pulled the door closed. The closer they came to her, the brighter the lights were and the higher her anxiety level became. She could feel her heart pounding.

She decided that the safest thing to do would be to stay in the van and hope that no one would notice her car. She hid behind the boxes and pressed herself as close to the floor of the van as she could get, praying that they would keep going. As the lights grew brighter and brighter, she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing and calm down. She could hear the crunch of the tires as the security vehicle moved closer to her.

Now it was right beside her and beginning to slow down. She tried to flatten herself even closer against the floor of the vehicle and cover herself with the yellow suits. Her heart was racing faster, causing her whole body to pulse with each beat.

The security vehicle stopped right beside her place in the SUV. She waited and listened to hear a car door open, but instead a call came across the other vehicle's audio that was essentially unintelligible to her. She heard the driver say, "Ten four," close his door and then the vehicle immediately began backing toward the area of activity back down the road.

As soon as the danger was over, she gathered herself one of the yellow coveralls, a visor and a respirator and put them on. The yellow suit fit well enough to not look suspicious. The visor went on with no problems, as did the respirator, but she wasn't sure how to adjust the respirator to be sure she could breathe through it. She worked the knobs by trial and error until she was able to breathe freely. Then she crept over to the east side of the road where all of the action seemed to be taking place.

It wasn't difficult to move about in the suit, but even in the late November cold she could feel herself getting warm. She began to walk in the direction of the rising smoke. Thank goodness she had ditched those heels before leaving the house. The dead twigs broke beneath her feet but no one seemed to pay her any attention. The workers were busy carrying out their duties securing and clearing the debris field left from the crash. She was comfortably anonymous among the workers and she felt free to roam the wreckage as the rest were doing.

At first it appeared as if it were no more than a light plane which had gone down, but as she looked about and nosed through the wreckage there was no way she could call this a routine crash site. The wreck did look vehicular, but there was nothing that even resembled any airplane she had ever seen.

There were no wheels or wings to be seen and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make out the parts of any fuselage she could remember ever having seen. From what little she could tell about the main body of the wreckage, it seemed to have been almost box-shaped, resembling a standard passenger van but larger, say three to four times larger. It was difficult to be sure. The crashed vehicle was demolished and was revealing very little of its original condition.

Large pieces of the skin of the vessel were scattered about over the debris field. The piece she picked up was gray and quite thin with the edges curled back. It was thin enough to tremble in the slight breeze that was passing by. She could smell the odor of the pieces of the wreck that were still smoldering. It smelled similar to burning rubber or plastic but the vehicle's skin didn't burn with a flame. It just smoldered after having gone through the atmosphere at such a high speed. The pungent smell even penetrated the filters of her respirator.

To her left she saw a larger piece of the fuselage lying on the ground. There was a symbol on it and, as she moved in that direction, she saw that it looked like a snake poised upright over its coiled tail with a forked tongue protruding from its mouth.

Jean, feeling even more comfortable in her garb, began to look around and survey the area. The floodlights were quite effective, allowing her to easily see the entire debris field, even the ditch gouged into the earth by the crashing vessel and the young trees that had been broken and scraped aside as it had passed between and over them. She noticed personnel not too far from her and became worried that she might be spotted in view of the bright lighting all around her. She decided that she should keep her head down as she scanned the ground. She would seem less conspicuous that way. If she saw anyone moving toward her, she would investigate in a different direction.

She found another piece of the vessel's skin on the ground nearby and picked it up. It looked similar to aluminum foil but when she squeezed it in her fist it wouldn't crumple. It just sprang back out into its original smooth state. She tried to tear it but it wouldn't yield. She held it up to her respirator but she could smell nothing as she had done with the earlier smoldering pieces of skin. She thought back about several of the articles and eyewitness accounts that she had stumbled across in her research.

She realized that no one was talking as each did his or her job. Each worker went about a particular assignment. Each obviously had an individual responsibility and attended to it with speed and preciseness. She did notice a few hand signals that were occasionally used between the workers but had no idea what they meant. She ignored them. It was definitely getting a little warmer in the suit.

To her right she saw a lifeless form on the ground. One of the workers was walking toward it with a sheet in his hand. Maybe this was the pilot. It was face down, motionless and dressed in a one-piece uniform made of a metallic gray fabric. She couldn't see its face but the shape of its head seemed odd to her, egg shaped to be more exact. She saw another body farther to her right that had already had been covered.

All seemed routine until a worker with a sheet began to fan it out to cover the body. Then something terrible happened, something that made her whole body tremble. Just before the sheet came down, another worker turned the body over on its back.

The face looked up with the blank stare of death, and those eyes. They were huge. It wasn't human. Memories emerged from deep in her subconscious. She had seen that face and those eyes before, many times before. She felt weak and she could taste the acid in her throat.

A wave of nausea rippled through her chest and abdomen as she looked into those inky black eyes that seemed to be looking out into infinity. She became dizzy and perspiration beaded up on her face and streamed down her forehead. Now the heat was building even faster inside the suit and she was having difficulty breathing. She began to gasp for air. She felt helpless. Her fingers and hands were feeling numb and were beginning to cramp to the point of pain.

She stumbled and fell to her knees. Her eyes searching for help, she called for the ones who had just covered the body to help her. She began to pull at the suit and the respirator, falling forward into the arms of two workers who had come toward her. They looked at her and began lowering her to the ground as she sensed her consciousness draining away.

"Help me," she gasped, pulling at the visor over her face. As she struggled for her breath, and her awareness was coming and going, she looked upward into the eyes of the two workers. Was she hallucinating? No. What she saw were the faces of Zach Donovan and Doug Bradley, who were looking at her through their visors with great concern in their eyes.

***Zach stood in the middle of his kitchen early the next afternoon holding a two-quart boiler in his left hand, its inside caked with the remnants of pork and beans. He held a soapy scouring pad in his right hand and the telephone pinched between his left ear and shoulder.

"No, ma'am, I came home right after the party and got into bed. And I was happy to be there."

Zach took a couple of scrapes at the inside of the boiler and continued to listen.

"Did you have to drive back?" he asked.

"You don't know?" he asked after a pause. "Well, where was your car when you woke up?"

He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jean," he sympathized. "It sounds like a bad dream to me. Sometimes they seem so real that you'd swear that they actually happened. I've had some similar dreams myself but I didn't have any business around Richmond last night. I'm sure I would have remembered it if I had. I do remember driving home in my car after the party."

"No, I didn't mean anything by that. Why would you think that?"

After a short pause he shook his head. "Nope, just a bad dream," he repeated. "Do you still want to see the telescope? I mean, are you still up to it after such a bad night?"

"I know it's one-thirty. I—I," Zach looked down at his hands and at the stack of dishes and pots on his counter. "I had some work here that I had to finish. It's been sitting around for about a week."

After an interval he nodded. "Yeah, I'm about finished. Where do you live?" he asked.

A smirk appeared on his face. "No problem. I've been over there before. I know right where you live. Give me about twenty minutes and I'll be there. Just be ready."

He wrinkled his brow at her response.

"Now why would you say that? I said I'd be there in about twenty minutes. Why would you say an hour?"

The offended look on his face disappeared. "Oh, Jeb and Marcie are just talking. I always get where I'm going in plenty of time to do what I need to do. Be sure to be ready when I get there."

Zach, shaking his head, put the phone in its cradle and began putting up his dishes. Hank, I guess I have you to thank for this, he thought.

***

An hour and twenty minutes later Jean heard the doorbell ring. "Hello Dr. Donovan," she said, walking out and pulling her door closed behind her. "Did we have a little trouble finding my house?"

"Not really," he answered. "They've put in some new streets since the last time I came out this way."

"Several, I'd imagine," she added.

Zach seemed more than a little irritated at her, but that was okay. She walked to the car with him and he never said a word, not even offering to open the door for her. As they drove to the Observatory she watched him as he tapped his ring on the steering wheel, fiddle with the radio and then with the directional signal. Was he upset? Yep, she was sure of that.

"You know, Dr. Donovan," she declared. "I didn't ask Hank for you to do this. It was his idea, and if you are as irritated as you seem to be, I'd appreciate your turning this car around and taking me home. I can get a look at that telescope on my press credentials and get whatever information I might need—on my own."

She saw his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, tight enough that it caused his knuckles to be white. He sighed and turned his head away from her, looking out through the window into the distance.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said turning his head toward the highway again. "I know I've been a bit of an ass. Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used that word."

"That's all right, Zach. I quite agree with your assessment."

He looked over at her, a studied look, and turned his head back toward the road.

"Please, Ms. Irwin, let's don't go off on a tangent like we did Friday at work."

"It's fine with me," she answered, "but I want you to know that I didn't plan to intrude on your time off, especially on a Sunday afternoon. I was as surprised as you were when Hank suggested that you take me to the Observatory."

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "No, it's really no intrusion. I'm pretty much on call all of the time and this is not unusual for a weekend." He looked back her way and continued, "But just for the record, that old refractory telescope is no longer available to the public. It has been designated as an antique and far too delicate to allow unrestricted access. Not even press credentials can get you in to see it without special permission. So," he added with a soft smile, "you won't be able to get in to see it on your own."

There was an air of confidence in his voice that pleased her, and she realized the privilege she was about to enjoy to see the telescope. But this was no time to show weakness, not with this guy.

"I suppose," she added, "that depends on your perspective as to how I would be able to get to it on my own."

There was a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke and she noticed him sneak a look in her direction. Was that a smile she saw out of the corner of her eye?

As they turned into the almost empty employee parking lot of the U.S. Naval Observatory, they approached the reserved parking section. She could read his name painted on the curb.

"It's usually pretty deserted around here this time of the year on the weekends," he said, ignoring her remarks as they got out of the car. "We have only a skeleton crew in our area, mostly the janitorial and maintenance crews. There are a few of the dedicated who come in on the weekend to catch up on unfinished business."

"And what are they doing?" she queried. "Charting stars?"

"That's just a part of their work," he explained. "Over the years our job has grown from research to setting standards in time and navigation and much more, including mapping of the universe. Sometimes our objectives become much more complicated than I want to deal with."

"I can bet on it getting too complicated," she chided.

She saw him turn a troubled expression in her direction and felt his hand against her back as he guided her through a doorway that he was holding open. After a short walk down a hall in an older part of the building, he took keys from his pocket and unlocked a door.

"Can you get the light switch?" he asked as he held the door. "It's on your right."

"Ohhh, look at that," she whispered reverently as the lights came on illuminating the shiny brass mounting of the old instrument. It was located on a raised platform in the middle of the room, and the polished brass gleamed as she walked toward it.

"The platform is brand new," Zach commented as he closed the door behind them. "They're still working on it."

"It almost calls out to you to touch it," she noted as she studied it from bottom to top.

"It's still quite a precise instrument, even today," he added. "And you don't have to whisper. It won't fall apart."

"I'm sorry," she responded. "Please tell me about it."

"I'm not sure of the date of manufacture," he said as he climbed up onto the platform where the telescope was located. He put his hand near the control levers in front of him and turned back toward her. "In 1877 a scientist by the name of Asaph Hall was using it when he discovered two moons orbiting the planet Mars."

Jean looked up at him and wondered just how difficult it would be for her to get on the platform with him. She hadn't planned on having to climb to see it. Most observatories had stairs.

"Here, step up on that ridge and give me your hand. I guess they still have to complete the stairs," he suggested. He had seen her dilemma. Taking one hand he tried to pull her up, but finally had to squat and grasp under her arms to lift her up beside him. As he did, she sensed a warmth that pleased her. She saw in his eyes and felt in his touch something that made him seem different from her earlier opinion of him. Stay on your guard, she warned herself.

"It's out of place," he said.

"What's out of place?"

"Your hair is. Come here."

He took a lock of her hair which had fallen in front of her face and repositioned it. When he did his hand brushed against her forehead. It felt pleasant. No, it felt good, and for a brief moment she continued to gaze into his eyes, until she realized what she was doing. She felt uneasy. Why should I feel this way? she wondered.

Turning she reached out and touched the side of the telescope. "Can you operate this?" she asked, looking back at him. Why was she trembling?

"Sure," he answered, "but I can't change the position right now. We don't do that except immediately after routine maintenance. That way we can be assured of adequate lubrication. Even then we rarely make changes. This instrument is just too old and too much a part of history to take any chances with it."

She leaned forward and looked through the eyepiece, squinting with one eye and using the other to peer through it. It was pointed at the ceiling. No stars could possibly be visible. A small grin came to her face.

"You know where I'd like to look?" she asked.

"Where's that?" he asked with a smile as he knowingly took her bait.

"I think I want to see the planet Hivania," she said touching her chin. "Is that right? Zach, did I pronounce it properly. Hi-VAN-ia? Yes, that's what I want."

She switched her eyes to see his response and saw him pale at the mention of the word Hivania. She pulled back and motioned with her hand toward the telescope.

"Put it on Hivania, won't you, Zach?"

In his momentary confusion he fumbled his words. "Wh-what in the world are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Hivania. What's the matter, cat got your tongue? I thought you were going to help me. Hank said you were going to help me in every way you could."

"We'll, this is one thing I can't help you with. I've never heard of a planet named Hivania in the solar system," he said, regaining his control.

"That may well be," she countered, "but what about a planet named Hivania in another star system? Perhaps you can focus the scope on a planet named Hivania in another star system, say the Zeta Reticuli system. Okay, Zach?"

"I couldn't do that, and you know it, even if your statements were true. Beside the fact that the ceiling would block the view, you can't use earth-based standard optical telescopes to study planets in other star systems. Even a science novice would know that. What are you doing? What kind of game are you playing?"

"Game, Zach?" she smirked. "I'm not playing a game. The moment I heard of this old scope I wanted to see it. I've been thinking a lot about it since Friday and a lot about a group of anthropologists whom I met last night, both at Doug's house and in my dreams."

She watched as he clinched his teeth. For the first time since the cafeteria incident he seemed shaken and a bit unsure of himself.

"So?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"So, things don't add up," she snapped back. She brought a finger up to her chin and forced a quizzical smile at the ceiling. "Now," she started, "why would a group of well-trained anthropologists such as you and your friends be working here? You explained to me, as we came in, the purpose of this facility, but I can't quite fit a group of anthropologists into my idea of this observatory."

"Don't be trying to fit us into anything," he suggested. "Just accept that we have a job to do here, as do thousands of other government employees here in D.C."

"Oh, I'm sure you have a job to do. That's what troubles me." She paused for a moment then continued. "Tell me about your job, Zach. What do you do around here other than get into my dreams, or should I say nightmares?"

"There's no big secret to what I do," he said. "In addition to what I've already told you, we're also involved in the study of the possibility of life in other star systems. We have nothing to hide about that. You heard Hank's presentation in Boston yourself. We also act as low-level ambassadors to other nations who might be using the facilities here at the Observatory."

"Give me a break," she challenged. "Don't tell me that the government would hire three individuals, as well trained as you all are, to create theories and study such a concept. Or, even more preposterous than that, do you expect me to believe that you three are an accessory diplomatic corps?"

"I think not," she said commandingly. "You're here to do just what you did last night. You resemble a cleanup team for chemical spills, except that you do your job when there is a UFO incident or some close encounter somewhere that goes bad. Your job is to get in as quickly as possible, clean up and get out as fast as you can. By the way, are you alpha-tango 1, 2 or 3?"

"Lady, you've been watching too much TV," he barked back, the anxiety obvious in his voice. "Where do you come up with all of these off-the-wall ideas?"

"No, Zach, it's not off the wall, unless you mean off the walls of Doug and Maureen's home."

"Now what are you talking about?" he asked.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. I think you know a lot more about it than you want to let on."

"You're wrong, lady. I don't, and I think it's about time for you to explain yourself. What's it all about?" he demanded. "What the hell are you getting at? I thought you were here to see a telescope."

"Last night at Doug's I heard some intelligent people discussing distant star systems," she began, defiantly smiling at him. "I was familiar with most of the stars they mentioned but then they began naming planets. They spoke of planets that I have never heard of in my life, and I'm a science editor. Zach, have you ever heard of planets named Dromedos or Janos? I hesitate to mention Hivania since that mention, just moments ago, sent you into a tizzy. To the best of my knowledge planets outside of our system have never been named anything other than code numbers or letters, at least that's what we've been told." She paused as she remembered the night before.

"And another thing struck me," she continued. "It was the names of these stars. I later realized that they were familiar names but at the time I couldn't remember where I had heard them. This morning, after my bad dream, it all came back to me. These are the star systems from the Fish Star Map."

"What the hell is a fish map and what does that have to do with stars?" he asked shaking his head and scowling.

She snickered. She definitely had him on the defensive now.

"Ridicule me and shake your head if you want, Zach Donovan," she warned. "I feel sure you already know about the Fish Star Map, but I'll refresh your memory if you've had a lapse. Fish was a school teacher and the architect of the map. In the 1960s," she continued, "after Betty and Barney Hill decided to get professional help with problems they encountered after their abduction experience near Exeter, New Hampshire, both of them underwent regression hypnosis. During the time she was under hypnosis, Betty drew a two-dimensional picture from her memory of a star map that she was shown during the time she was on the alien ship. No one could make anything out of it until Fish took the two-dimensional map and created a three-dimensional version that clarified the locations of the stars on it. The other scientists were considering it from the perspective of viewing the stars from earth. Fish decided that it had to be considered from another perspective, that being the celestial origin of the creatures on the vessel. When she found that location it all became clear."

"Oh boy," Zach said, "now we're dealing with space aliens and abductions. Okay, so what?" He shrugged his shoulders and held out his hands.

"So what?" she asked, her voice filled with frustration. "Those stars on the Fish Star Map are the same names I heard over and over again at Doug's last night. What's going on, Zach?" The tone in her voice changed. Now she had challenged him with facts.

"What are you hiding?" she asked. "Is there really a cover-up, as the public has been screaming for the past sixty years? Are you part of it? Why won't you open up to me about what happened outside Georges Tavern last night?" She bit hard against her own teeth and waited for his reaction.

"Jean," he urged, "don't fall into that 'cover-up' trap. You're too smart for that, and you've come up with the wildest story I've heard in a long time. You're confusing dreams with reality and accusing Hank and Doug, even me, of things that any serious scientist wouldn't waste his or her time discussing. These things are too unrealistic to be a part of any serious debate. Even if we knew such a thing, why would any of us spout off in front of you?"

"I don't know," she argued. "It sounded real enough to me and maybe they didn't know they were spouting off in front of me. Maybe they were just talking business and didn't know I could hear them. See this ear, Zach?" She grinned and pointed to her right ear. "This is the ear of a journalist and it's a trained instrument, educated and dedicated to finding the news. The only problem I had last night was that I couldn't ask questions at Doug's party, and in Virginia, well, I passed out. But now Zach, I have you. If I can just stay conscious and get you to cooperate, perhaps I can get to the bottom of all this."

"I don't know what's going on with you, Jean. You're ranting as if you have lost your senses. It appears you've seen all you want of our telescope. Do you have any more questions?"

"Do I have questions?" she asked, and then sighed. "Yes, I have many, but I believe I'm out of luck for getting any answers today, huh?" Maybe she had crossed the line with all of her challenges. Maybe she should have handled it in a different fashion. It would be impossible to get any information from him this way.

"Absolutely, m'am," he replied. "You answered that one for yourself with no help from me." That being said, he jumped off the platform and turned, waiting for her to do the same, but she just stood there looking down at the floor below.

"Come on," he offered holding out his hands. "I helped you up there, so I'll help you down. It's all a part of my diplomatic responsibilities."

"I always seem to be offending you. I'm sorry," she said.

"No offense taken," he assured her. "Come on down."

She leaned forward and placed her hands on his shoulders and he held her by the waist and began to lower her but he had misjudged her weight and as she shifted forward she had to hold around his neck for balance causing her to slide down against the full length of his body. She stood there, her body against his, her face not three inches from his and her arms still around his neck. His breath felt warm against her cheeks. He stared into her eyes for a moment, then dropped his arms and turned to leave.

She followed him. She needed to get to fresh air. Why did she feel attracted to him but yet repelled by him?

"You'd better hurry if we're going to get to the Lincoln Memorial," he said, looking back at her. "I understand it is next on my agenda. Maureen told me we were going there after we finished up here."

Jean's face flushed as she remembered her conversation with Maureen the night before.

***

After a quiet, tense ride from the Observatory, the unlikely twosome stood looking down the reflecting pool toward the Washington Monument. The Lincoln Memorial was behind them. Their heavy overcoats offered protection from the cold except for an occasional gust of wind that Jean could felt cutting down her collar. Snow flurries began to pepper them. She shivered and pulled her scarf tighter into the collar of her coat.

She wanted him to think about anything but their conversation back at the Observatory. She could care less about their apparent diversity. She knew that connecting with him and his group could prove useful in accessing the information she needed for her job. There would be no more intimidation if she could control her temper.

"Have you visited here before?" she asked.

"Sure," he answered giving a slight nod. "I grew up on the outskirts of Alexandria. I've been here many times, visited all the museums and memorials and even most of the tourist haunts."

"I would think that growing up among all of this would dull your appreciation of it," she said. "Doesn't it?"

"No, not at all, Jean, not if you grew up with Bill Donovan as your mentor. Look," he said, "let's go up there near Mr. Lincoln. It's getting pretty blustery out here." He took her arm to move her along. His grip was strong and firm but considerate. It was turning colder and the snow was stinging their faces.

"Maybe," he suggested turning loose her arm, "if we get up there in the memorial it will knock some of this wind off of us."

As they walked together up the steps, she wanted to keep their civil conversation going. "You were saying that Bill Donovan was your mentor. Who was he?" she asked. "I heard his name mentioned several times at the party last night. Was he a relative of yours?"

"Yes, he was my granddad. He was an old-timer who came from the old school of life. He taught me the origins and reasons for every monument here, as well as the meaning of patriotism and love of country. He guided me in my work ethics and helped me to develop the priorities in my life. Growing up around here has actually increased my appreciation and respect of these treasures rather than dulled them."

"Where did he work?"

"At the Observatory, you might even say that he was the founding member of our group," he answered.

She saw an affectionate smile pass over his face.

"Oh, then this is like a family affair," she joked. "What about your dad, did he work with you and your grandfather?"

"No, Dad was killed in Vietnam. I was just a toddler then, so I don't remember much about him. We had pictures but I was just too young to get to know him. Two years later, Mom died of leukemia and it was then that my grandparents entered full press into my life. After that they were my parents."

"That's such a tragedy to lose both of your parents at such a young age. It sounds as if your grandparents did a great job in stabilizing your life. What did your grandfather do at the Observatory? What was his job before he retired?"

"About the same as the rest of us," he answered.

"Was he an anthropologist?"

"Yes, well, not with a formal degree," he corrected, "but back then they didn't pay as much attention to degrees and certifications. A person could advance just as much on his knowledge, merit and experience. Pop didn't learn his trade in college. He learned it on his own as he worked. And he never really retired. He worked on up until his death."

"I still can't see why anthropologists are needed to chart stars and play diplomat," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Her voice trailed off. She realized she was headed back into the same forbidden area that had been a problem back at the Observatory.

Zach stopped as he held his collar closed. They were almost at the top of the steps and Lincoln was looking down across their heads. His anger flared.

"Jean," he said in a firm but courteous voice, "we've had a good conversation up to this point but I don't plan to get on this subject again. You're trying to manufacture a story for your paper, but I have a job to do and it's not dealing with a reporter in a feeding frenzy or a UFO nut. I think we should leave now."

Zach turned to descend the same steps that they had just climbed, but Jean knew this might be her last chance and she decided to go for it.

"You just hold on, Zach Donovan," she ordered and pointed her finger down at him from her perch on the top step. "First, I'm not just a reporter. I'm a journalist, and a damn good one. I try to be factual and I do investigative reporting where I feel it is needed. I'm the science editor of a major publication and that's not an easy position to achieve. Second, I'm not a UFO nut as you so inconsiderately remarked and I'll debate you about your own field any time you have the courage to do it."

Zach had stopped as soon as he had heard her speak. She saw that he had lost that smug look of confidence as he turned to look up at her.

"Just what gives you such insight," he said looking up at her, "and how can you say such a thing? That's the same as my saying that I know as well as you how to be a science editor."

"Because Mister, no DOCTOR Donovan, I've been there." She felt a slight quiver in her chin but she held her gaze on him.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Been where?"

"I've been with those things that you saw last night. It was too real. Last night in Virginia when I saw that face and those eyes, those awful eyes, it all came back to me. I've been abducted by those creatures. I don't remember exactly what happened to me, but I can recall probing in my abdomen and having a piece of flesh taken from my arm."

Jean almost lost her composure. Her eyes welled with tears and she gripped her fists tightly to control herself. The snow was getting thicker and began to hang in her hair as her cheeks reddened from the driving wind.

Zach put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her collar up closer around her neck. He just stood there not saying a word. There was pain in her eyes.

"Come on," she challenged. "Aren't you going to laugh and call me a UFO nut now that you know I'm one of them? Here's your chance, a real live UFO nut."

"No, Jean, I didn't mean it that way," he said. "It's one of those defenses that I've developed after years of people accusing me of being a part of some big conspiracy. I don't really think of you that way. I can appreciate your intellectual interest in all of this."

"Nope, this is more than an intellectual interest. For years I've had this crazy feeling deep inside every time I heard the word alien or UFO, or when I watched one of those abduction programs on TV. I finally quit watching them, and last night I bumped into you and your friends in Virginia and I saw something that shook me to my very soul."

"It just sounds like a dream, Jean. It was a dream of a plane crash that for some reason contained some gruesome scenes."

"Oh, no, Zach, it was no mere dream. I saw you cover that body, and when you did I saw its eyes as the sheet fell over it." She had to stop for a moment. It was getting too difficult to continue. She was trembling, and it wasn't the cold that was doing it.

"Let's get inside," Zach said. He reached out and took her hand. He led her up into the memorial and over to a corner of the chamber in an attempt to shelter her from the icy wind. She saw a young man and woman staring at her. They had noticed the tears and her demeanor.

"Are you all right?" the young man asked as he approached her and scrutinized Zach.

"Oh yes." Her lips trembled as she answered and wiped the moisture from her eyes. "He's helping me through a bad time." She tipped her head in Zach's direction.

The couple smiled and turned away as she looked up at Zach. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about her.

"Jean, you're shaking all over," he said, trying to put his arm around her for consolation, but she shrugged it off.

"I'm fine," she barked, "but dammit, Zach, you need to be upfront with me and tell me what's going on. You know, and it hasn't killed you. I simply must know."

She took another tissue from her pocket and wiped away the tears from her eyes. She looked into Zach's eyes and saw a worried look, but again he said nothing. She felt frustrated but what did she expect, a sudden admission that she was right and he was wrong and then the truth? The way she had him figured was that this cover-up was his business and a few tears from a trembling female wasn't about to make him spill the beans on over sixty years of secrecy.

"You're not about to tell me, are you?" she persisted.

He looked at her but no answer came forth. This time he didn't have that overconfident look that he had when they got into the car to go to the telescope.

"No," she said answering her own question, "and I don't think you ever will. You don't care about people like me. We nurse our anxieties and neuroses until we die and you know the truth and won't say a thing."

"Who are WE?" he asked.

"WE are those who don't believe the years of lies and deceit from Washington," she answered. "After last night I've gained some small insight into the truth, but there are many others who will relive their encounters in their dreams and flashbacks for years to come. They'll never know for sure what happened to them or why they were taken from their homes and treated as if they were lab animals. They'll just have to go on having their night sweats, and they, as I, will never be able to understand the invasion and probing into their bodies."

"Do you believe all those crazy tales, Jean?"

She couldn't believe he was asking such a question. She clinched her teeth and balled her fists. "Zach!" she yelled. "What do you mean? I am one of those crazy tales." She shook her head. "How can you, of all people, deny what's been happening all of these years? You and your friends work right in the middle of it."

"No," he said. "I won't fall for this. There has never been any proof of an alien presence, only stories such as your fantasy from last night. There is never any solid proof." He stuffed his hand inside his coat and looked back at her. "Let's go to the car. It's cold as hell up here."

"Sure," she said following him down the steps as she spoke. "You and your people run in and cover it up and there's no time for confirmation or documentation. I don't know what you would have done if I hadn't fainted as I did, but I'm sure you would have handled it and I would still be the confused witness with no one to go to."

Jean's frustration was building. She pleaded. "Zach, how can you take part in suppressing this information? You were brought up by an honorable man who, as you have characterized him, would have never lied or deceived in this way. Don't you understand how this affects people?"

"Why do you insist that we are hiding anything? You live in America, and this government has always been open about space exploration, UFOs and such. Read your history and you'll see that back in the nineteen-fifties, sixties and seventies, when the Soviets were exploring space behind a veil of secrecy, we were completely open with our space program."

"I see it different," she replied. "The Soviets were open with their control of the media and we, on the other hand, contrived methods of appearing to be open. In reality many things never made it to the public, especially evidence of extraterrestrial life."

Zach grimaced. They had reached the car and he used his remote to unlock it.

"Let's get in out of the cold," he said as he continued to debate her. "How can you say that? You have no evidence to support that premise."

She knew she would never get him to come around, but it was time he knew how much others knew about this stifling of probably the most important information since the creation of man.

"Doctor Donovan," she instructed as she closed her door and latched her seat belt, "I refer you to the Brookings report that came out sometime around 1960. This report was hidden within the bureaucracy until some old-time investigative journalism brought it back to the surface during the 1990s. It took over thirty years to find it. What else might be hidden there that could take another thirty or more years to find?"

"I've never heard of such a report," he snapped.

"My, my," she scolded. "We are defensive today. I wonder why you say that, since that report would have been the basis for the continuation of your group. It has kept your family in business over the years."

"Accuse me all you want. I've never heard of such a report," Zach responded, still in his defensive mode.

Jean's nostrils flared as she renewed her attack. "It was titled 'Proposed Studies on the Implications of Peaceful Space Activities for Human Affairs.' There, how's that for recall? That study would have remained hidden if we were dependent on people such as you to keep us informed."

"There were many such studies back then," he replied. "You know the government. Before they make a move on anything they study it to death. The importance of the space program back then would have spawned many impact studies."

"But just how many would have mentioned the possibility of finding extraterrestrial life?" she asked.

"None of this would have had any effect on our group," he said rather unflappably.

She turned and glared at him. "That remains to be seen. The Brookings report recommended more studies and specifically questioned the need to withhold from the public any evidence of intelligent extraterrestrial life that might be found during such explorations."

"Why, Jean?" he asked. "Why hide the most important discovery in the history of mankind? Why would the government withhold the first contact of humanity with beings from other worlds?"

"They never made a straightforward recommendation to suppress evidence, only to study whether there was a need to do so, the idea being that it could shake the fabric of all of the world's governments and religions if intelligent life were to be found somewhere other than on earth."

"So, there was a government study suggesting that they just might consider smothering that kind of evidence if ET life were just happened to be found," he mocked. "It never was and they never did. You saw everything from the lift off to the splash down in the oceans."

"Not true," challenged Jean. "The same investigator who brought to light the findings of the Brookings report also investigated allegations of suppression of evidence from early Martian and Lunar probes."

"Where the hell do you read all of this bunk?" Zach questioned with a look of disbelief on his face.

"I told you that this was my area of interest and now you know why. I've researched this field for years and I've accumulated reams of data containing facts as well as allegations. Some allegations have turned into facts. Doctor, this problem is real, not imagined."

"Well," Zach replied gripping the steering wheel a little harder, "I've about had my fill of it today. I'm ready to go, or did you have some other place to you want to visit? Maureen forgot to tell me if I had another stop."

"Enough for me," she answered, looking at him hard enough that she hoped he could feel her stare.

Zach started the engine and drove back to her apartment, neither of them talking. To her surprise he walked her to her front door and held it open for her to go in and then closed the screen behind her. She turned to say good-bye but he spoke up first.

"I hope I've taken you where you wanted to go today," he said, "but I'll tell you this. I think you have some delusional thoughts about our team."

"They are far from delusional," she said, "but I think you already know that. I do thank you for your time."

"See you at the Observatory on your next assignment," he said, nodding and forcing a smile. He turned and left.

She stood at the door as he drove away. She was upset at his nonchalant attitude, and she was tired of the deception she had experienced during the last twenty-four hours, much less the misinformation of the last sixty years. She thought for a moment and smiled when she remembered something that Hank had said to her at the party the night before. Maybe, just maybe, she might someday have the last word, but she needed to initiate things now.

Jean watched in the distance as Zach's car topped the hill and disappeared behind it. She smiled again from the doorway. The cold winter wind, which earlier had been miserable, was now stimulating.

Yes, Zach, she thought. I'll be seeing you around the Observatory all right. Maybe it will be sooner than you think.

Chapter Four

"It is well, when judging a friend, to remember that he is judging you with the same godlike and superior impartiality."…..Arnold Bennett (1867-1931)British novelist

His wipers swished back and forth, knocking the snow from his windshield as he waited for the light to change to green. Zach was returning home from Jean's apartment in the midst of the increasingly heavy snow that was accumulating to about one or two inches on nearby lawns. His thoughts kept returning to his meeting with Jean and her persistent questioning.

He had never been confronted by someone as knowledgeable in his own field of expertise. The more he thought about the problem she represented, the more he decided a discussion couldn't wait until Monday. He punched in Hank's number on his mobile phone. It was busy on his first call but Hank answered the second time he tried.

"No, Hank, this can't wait until Monday," he emphasized. "Please call Doug and let's meet at your place. I'm still on the other side of town, but I can get there in thirty minutes." He waited for Hank's excuse, but surprisingly he didn't get one. Zach put away his phone and turned his car toward Hank's house.

The traffic was heavy and the snow was getting even heavier but he arrived at Hank's as promised. He saw Doug's blue Ford parked in the driveway as he hurried to the back entry, the way he usually entered. He saw Hank through the glass as he reached for the door knob.

"Hi, Zach," Hank welcomed. "Knock the snow off and come on in. Betty's gone for the day. When I told her you seemed worried, she said this was no place for her. I think she has learned over the years the things that are required of an Aquarian spouse."

Zach settled into one of the kitchen chairs nearest to Doug, laid his arms on the table and looked up at his two team members.

"It's about our journalist friend whom we pulled out of the crash site this morning."

Doug nodded his head. Hank placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of Zach and sat down with them.

"Yeah, go ahead," Hank urged.

"Thanks for the coffee. Well, my trip to the telescope today turned out to be more than a sightseeing tour. This is something important enough that I'll need to report it by filling out a form AQ-203."

"Why?" both men asked at the same time.

"Did she mention the crash?" Hank questioned.

"Oh yes," he answered, "she did, but she asked a lot more questions than that. I've just returned from a long discussion with her, if you want to call it that." He paused to gather his thoughts.

"So?" Doug asked. "Go on."

"This lady had a lot more on her mind than looking at a telescope," warned Zach. "You saw her last night. She's way too curious about what we're doing." He looked at Hank and began gesturing with his hands. "Last night when you two were talking business at the party, she was near enough to hear you and she picked up on quite a few details. I don't think she missed anything."

Hank picked up a pencil from the table, leaned back in his chair and thumbed the eraser. "What did she hear?"

"What didn't she hear would be a better question. She asked me more than once about the purpose of our group and why we were hiding our studies of planets in other star systems. She mentioned specifically the planets of Hivania, Janos and Dromedos, and also about the Zeta Reticuli star system. The way she was questioning me was as if she were grilling me under the lights at the police station.

"Jean," Zach continued, "is quite knowledgeable about this subject. She instructed me about aliens, abductions, the neuroses they produce, the Brookings report and the follow-up reports that it caused. By the way, she is probably an abductee. When she saw the body last night it seemed to have neutralized their suppression mechanism to a degree. That's why she passed out. It wasn't a problem with her respirator as we had thought. Her breathing difficulty was based on anxiety and hyperventilation. I kept insisting that it was all a dream."

Hank slammed his fist down on the table causing coffee to slosh out of his cup and both Zach and Doug to flinch.

"Damn," he barked, "I knew she was a journalist but I never thought that she could hear us from where she was sitting. And who'd ever expect to find her poking around in Virginia at a cleanup mission? How the hell would she find out about it anyway? We have some work to do on our security."

"I seem to remember that the initial part of our communication wasn't encoded," Zach reminded him.

"You're right…my fault," Hank admitted.

"Another thing," Doug added. "We need to be on a more secure frequency. We're on the cellular phone band and anyone with a modified scanner could pick us up if they were lucky enough to listen in at the right time and we failed to encode. They could hear everything we say."

"I believe that if I were a journalist working for the Post I would have a scanner," Zach suggested. "Ten to one that's how she knew about us. There are still plenty of the old scanners out there that can be modified to tune in on our transmissions."

"But we need that frequency," Hank reminded them. "We need it to be able to use the wide range of the cell tower distribution system. We need the broad spread they cover to be able to get out to some of the far-out areas that we have to search."

It sure would be good to be able to transmit from the new Perscom satellite system," Zach suggested.

"I can get us some pagers and satellite phones," Hank said as he rubbed the deep cleft in his chin, "but we'll worry about that later. It's a budget problem."

"Without our help," Doug said, "she can't prove a thing. About the most she can do is to raise a few questions or cause a little embarrassment. All of our procedures were in order except the disabled encoder," he said, turning to Zach. "She was unconscious when we left her in her apartment, so if you continue to insist that it was just a dream there will always be that shred of doubt. We have depended on that little bit of doubt for years and it has always worked for us."

"Believe me Doug," Zach insisted, "this gal can cause a lot more than a little bit of embarrassment. Remember, she is the science editor for the Post, and she's well aware of her position and the influence that it carries. She could play havoc with our security, but the bottom line is that she could disrupt our plans for next month. Good God, that's the summation of our life's work. We cannot let that happen.

"Just a second," Hank said, taking a sip from his coffee and raising a finger at the other two. "I spent a great deal of time talking with Jean last night. She is interested in UFOlogy and has done considerable reading and research on the subject. She's even interviewed many of the same witnesses that we and our predecessors have been able to squelch in the past. Now we know she's a regular abductee, a good reason for her intense interest in the subject. She also has a handle on several other science areas. You know, this could turn out to be to our advantage.

"…our advantage?" Zach asked, searching Hank's eyes for enlightenment and where he might be going with this thought pattern. "How could that be?"

"Well," Hank said, rising from his chair and pacing the floor, "if we could harness that energy she has invested into spying on us, plus add to that her science and journalistic talents, maybe we could get her to work for us rather than against us. With the way she has manipulated herself into our affairs, it sounds as if that would be a good route to take. What do you think?"

"I think so," Hank answered, gazing at Zach. "She could be an energetic kick in the butt to us, Zach."

"I sure agree with that," he answered, "but I really think this is the wrong approach."

"I don't," Hank continued. "We've been sitting stagnant here for a long time. Maybe we need some fresh blood. Zach, you were the last person we hired and we've had a vacancy ever since Bill died."

"But, Chief," Zach interrupted.

"Hold on, Zach," Hank said, raising his finger again. "Let me finish. She may be aggressive, inquisitive and maybe even impulsive, but I believe she'll be sincere and trustworthy if she is on our side. She and I did skirt around the probability that there might be a job opening. She called just before you called me, Zach, and asked me not to hire anyone before she had a chance to apply."

Zach stared down at the tabletop. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"But I thought that all of our positions were filled," Doug questioned. "I mean, we never discussed filling Bill's slot."

"I wasn't really considering Bill's position," Hank responded. "I think we have done well without filling it. With his age he had lost his ability to be physically productive in his last years. I think that Zach had actually filled his slot a few years earlier. I was referring to a position suggested by the Majestic group at my last meeting with them in preparation for next month and into the future. They were hoping we could get a historian to document all that will happen and to compile the data we have stored over the years. I just didn't know how to go about searching for a historian without breeching security in some way. Jean has solved that problem for me. She has breached our security in such a way that hiring her would solve several problems, including sealing the breech. She has the qualifications and the interest, and the Majestic group has given us the appropriations."

"And when does she plan to apply?" Zach asked unenthusiastically.

"She led me to believe that she would be in the first thing Monday morning."

"Somehow I don't feel comfortable with this," Doug disagreed. "She holds a responsible position and all that, but we don't really know much about her, and after last night I'm not sure."

"You know me better than that," Hank assured him. "After she called I got on the phone with the bureau and set up a security check. We'll probably have all of the basics needed on our desks by tomorrow morning."

"It sounds as if you're sold on her already, Chief," Zach noted.

"Sure, this woman has a lot on the ball. She's inquisitive, yes, but that is an asset, not a liability, if she's on our team. On the other hand, it sounds as if you have a major problem with her. Just what is your problem, Zach?"

Zach was surprised that he would be questioned about his gut reaction on this. He had been there and helped them to carry her out of the crash site and across part of the state of Virginia to put her to bed. He thought back to the confrontation in the cafeteria at the Observatory. For sure, he had a problem with that, and her almost constant challenges at the telescope and the Lincoln Memorial were definite problems but he had no underlying agendas.

"Chief," he began, "I'm not sure about this woman, and after being with her all day and listening to her accusations, I have to believe that she's going to be one who could interfere with the goals and purpose of Aquarius."

"Do you mean you think she's strong-willed?" Hank asked as he looked at Zach.

"Well, no, I mean, hell yes. Hank, what I'm trying to say is that she'll be causing more friction than progress in our team. She's going to slow us down."

"I don't think she will," Hank said. "And I know whatever problems you two have between you can be worked out, because I plan to bring her into the group if she passes clearance and is serious about wanting the position. The incident in Virginia doesn't change a thing. It only reinforces the fact that she has a strong will and can be counted on to do whatever it takes to get her story. We may need that strong will of hers next month. By the way, I do not plan to explain to her about what will be happening then. I want her to experience it as it occurs. I think she can write about it more appropriately for history if she is allowed to approach it that way. The Majestic group agrees with this approach."

"Zach," Hank said, reaching across the table and placing his hand on Zach's arm, "I plan to put her under your guidance for the proper orientation into our group."

Zach sprang from his seat and walked to the window. He rubbed his forehead and looked back at Hank.

"Chief," he pleaded, "I think you need to reconsider this whole plan. This woman and I, well, we don't exactly see eye to eye. Maybe you need to get someone else to do her orientation."

"Sorry, Zach, you're the best one for the job," Hank said. "You've got the background training and position. Any other way is wasting time and money, and we don't have any of that to spare."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Zach said, shaking his head. "Everything inside me says that this is a bad move."

"I do know what I'm doing, Zach," Hank replied, a smile adorning his face. "You should know me by now. I do things by the book and when I make a decision using that rule, I stick with it and I always feel good about it, and, Zach," Hank added, putting his hand on Zach's shoulder, "I know you by now. I've learned that when I give you a job you do it and do it well. Someone told me that about you many years ago. It was a fine gentleman by the name of Bill Donovan. He had all the faith in the world in what you could do and you've never let any of us down."

"Hank, you've always had a way about you. Whatever it is, I have a hard time saying no."

"It's called seniority, Zach," Doug said and chuckled.

***

The snow had stopped but the D.C. traffic was heavier than usual as Zach drove home. He had asked Doug to follow him, probably because of the "Uncle Doug" role that he had played in Zach's earlier days. Hank's bombshell had him worried about his future. Zach, he thought, what have you gotten yourself into? If Hank goes through with this cockamamie idea, you're going to have to deal with that woman every working day of your life. I sure hope Doug has some answers.

As soon as they entered his condo, Zach went straight to his refrigerator and got a can of beer. He needed it.

"Why would Hank assign me to that job, Doug?" he asked as he shoved a can of beer to Doug.

Doug shook his head refusing the beer. "I've got to drive back home. I'll make me some coffee, but as to your question about Hank…"

"I'm not sure he realized how abrasive your relationship has become until today when you told him, and you know Hank. Once he makes a decision it's as if it's carved in stone," Doug said as he finished loading the coffeemaker. "You have to give him the credit, though. He rarely misjudges."

"Yeah," Zach said, nodding, "I guess you're right. I know he wouldn't deliberately set me up, but knowing how I feel about her should make a difference."

"Zach, have you asked yourself why she bothers you, but she doesn't bother the rest of us in the same way?"

Zach thought for a moment trying to ponder his motives, but soon his pensive look became one of frustration. "No," he said. "I haven't tried to analyze her or myself. Hank feels that she's strong willed, whatever the hell that means. What do you make of all this?"

"I have to tell you, I agree with Hank. From the first time that I saw her, even in that embarrassing situation, I recognized her as a lady of class. She's not one I would expect to argue just for the sake of arguing, but she would question anything she didn't understand or about which she was curious. I think she bases her decisions on well-thought-out reasons, and once she sets her mind on a goal, well, buddy, her mind is set."

"You can say that again," Zach added.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Zach, and something else I noticed. She's quite a pretty lady. Even you noticed that the first time you saw her. There's no problem there, either."

"But I don't understand your point," Zach said, looking up from his beer. "Even if she's pretty and smart, and all of that, it shouldn't have anything to do with how we get along. And the way she keeps prying into what we do. That's enough to upset any responsible Aquarian."

Zach knew he had never had a problem with any of the women in the office. Of course, there had been friction between him and his ex-wife, but that was a whole different situation. Even then he had admitted that their problems weren't all one-sided. Why was he having such a problem with this woman?

"Okay Zach, I'm going to say it. I think you are far more attracted to her than you'll admit."

"No. Hell no," Zach reacted and pitched his beer, half full, into the trash. "Why would you say that, Doug?"

"Because I believe it, look at what you just did. You threw nearly a whole can of beer away. That's not the way you usually react. You're more in control than that. Zach, it was you who bragged to Hank about her beauty. You can't deny that you were quite impressed with her."

Doug waited a second, stirring the sweetener into his coffee, then proceeded to explain his point.

"You know, Zach, you could have said 'No' to taking her to the Observatory. Maybe not a flat 'No' but you could have begged off somehow," Doug pointed out as he took a sip from his coffee. "No sir, Zach, I think you wanted to go and what I want to know is what really happened at the telescope today."

Zach's expression could best be described as becoming one of concern. Now Doug was on his back. This woman had managed to get everybody stirred up.

"She started prying into our work," he answered.

"Come on, Zach, that's her job. You've dealt with that with many journalists over your years as an Aquarian. You've handled them well. You've been able to double talk far better than the rest of us have been able to. Remember, we use to come back to the office and relive the funny moments when you would double talk some witness or journalist who was sure they had just witnessed an alien vehicle? You were able to change the mind of a witness causing them to swear that they had not seen something that they had just sworn earlier to someone else that they had seen. You're good. No, that's not what has you upset."

Is Doug right? Zach wondered. He thought back to the time when he was on the telescope platform with Jean in front of him with a lock of hair hanging down over her eye. There was a moment when he felt something inside. Whatever it was, he remembered how uncomfortable it had made him feel. Was it some fear? Was he afraid he would react and do or say something stupid?

"I don't believe it, Doug, but there may be a little bit to what you say. I did think she was attractive before our confrontation, but I just don't think I'd be pulling such a foolish trick."

"Why, Zach? For goodness sake, there's nothing wrong with being attracted to a beautiful woman. That's what she is, you know? I'd put her at the top of any list. I, for one, think it is damn time you get that shield down that you've been carrying around since your divorce."

"Doug, we've spent decades protecting the information we've accumulated and getting to the point we're at today. She could destroy our plans for next month."

"Yes, she could," Doug noted, "but why? What motives would she have? I think you're overreacting. Besides, if she's working for us under your tutelage, wouldn't it be difficult for her to cause too much of a problem? That's what Hank's plans include." Doug shook his head. "No sir, you've got other problems with Jean, and it's not her curiosity or her nosiness. Those are the characteristics of a good journalist."

Zach was confused, but it was a confusion of emotions rather than facts. Was it anger at Jean's interference and the way she was working her way into Aquarius? Was it her attitude? Did she really have a problem with men as he had suspected from the beginning or was the difficulty within him? Why was he having such trouble dealing with her? He leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"I don't know Doug. It looks as if I have a lot of sorting to do. I need to do some dealings with myself before this arrangement is thrown at me."

"Well," Doug reminded him, "Hank has things in motion for her to get on board. If she really wants it and she passes clearance, you know Hank as well as I do, she has the position. You need to get this worked out tonight because, my friend, she's about to become an Aquarian." He brought an understanding smile to his face.

Doug picked up his coffee cup and took a few steps toward the door. "I think I'll go home so you can sift through all of this. I'll give you back your cup the next time I see you."

After Doug had pulled out, Zach went about finishing the cleaning he had begun before Jean had called earlier in the day. When he finished he picked up a two-day-old copy of the Post and sat back in his recliner searching the pages. He soon spotted it. There it was plain as day: "Science Editor, - Jean Irwin".

Well, that was simple, he thought. She does do what she said she does. Even so, she still has to pass the FBI security clearance. Maybe she can't pass it. Hell, she'll probably pass with flying colors.

He let the paper fall to the floor and pushed the recliner back flat, staring at a familiar crack in the ceiling, and spoke out to a favorite mentor.

"Pop, where are you? I do need your wisdom and advice now. How I wish you were here."

Regardless of his personal difficulties with Jean, there was one thing for sure. They would be coming in a month and nothing would be interfering with his being there, nothing.

He thought back. It was right after Bill had returned from a trip the weekend before he died. That was the first time he had ever heard the full story of Jhowah, at least this version. It was hard to believe at first, and if he hadn't been working with Aquarius and already exposed to other hard-to-believe information, he would have felt that his grandfather was creating senile fantasies.

The story he told him was about the greatest adventure and scientific endeavor ever proposed. It was about the Challenge of Jhowah. It had actually begun as an experiment, but the goals and purposes reached beyond the bounds of comprehension of modern man. It began over 38,000 years ago in a constellation visible only in our southern skies, on a planet orbiting a star thirty-nine light years from earth.

36,000 B.C.

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